


Forge

by As_Mundane_As_NEVERMORE



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Abuse of Mental Physical and Emotional, Apocalypse, Betrayal, Blood, Disapproving Azula, F/F, F/M, Gore, Human Experimentation, I don't want to give too much away, Infection, Lies, M/M, Major Mood Swings Zuko, No one knows what they're doing, Patience of a Saint Jet, Relationship Issues, Soul Mate AU, outbreak, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/As_Mundane_As_NEVERMORE/pseuds/As_Mundane_As_NEVERMORE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Sentries are the monotonous soldiers of a sketchy government widely known as the Bureau, no one knows much about this shadowy organization, but there are rumors that tell of human experimentation. Zuko is one of these faithful soldiers, but upon meeting his OTHER half, his beliefs and morals are tested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zuko_of_Asgard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuko_of_Asgard/gifts), [Witness_ME_Losers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witness_ME_Losers/gifts).



> I am Norwegian so please excuse my odd way of wording things. This is posted on FanFiction.net. I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Forge**

**Prologue**

"You **DISGUST** me!"

Thrown to the floor with naught but a smidgen of strength left, the teenage boy falls to his bloodied knees and scraped hands, his arms quiver under his weight and his legs feel boneless. A warm, cruel intentioned hand wraps around his tender throat and forcibly hoists him to shaky legs; he's now eye to eye with his attacker. Wrapping numbed fingers around the man's wrist, the boy hopes to somehow weaken the man's hold and get some much needed oxygen to his brain-this doesn't work for it increases the man's ire towards him, and it's shown by the violent shake he's given and the tightening of his throat.

"Listen to ME boy." the cruel man speaks, voice like the devil's, "No one will know about this-this MISTAKE of yours. Got it?" the boy nods weakly, hands still holding the man's wrist, "If anyone and I mean ANYONE, asks about it, you tell them "it's none of their business". You tell them you "don't HAVE a soul mate". Understand?"

The boy rasps out a weak, "I-I understand."

Lips pulling back into a disgusted grimace, the man tosses the boy to the ground and fixes his attire, "You aren't WORTHY of a soul mate."

The man spares the boy a wretched snarl before the click-click-clicking of his sharp dress shoes make for the exit, bitterly shutting the lights off and slamming the door. Leaving the boy within a dense room of nothingness, a cloud of undeserved despair beginning to loom over the boy's crumpled form.

Lying upon the cold tiled floor, the teenage boy curls in on himself, his body screaming in pain, tears prick the corners of his eyes and he wants nothing more than to let those tears flow free, but after the humiliation he suffered from the cruel man who calls himself his "father" he can't find it in himself to do so. Instead, cold fingers search out the scritch-scratched name of his soul mate. His MALE soul mate. Rolling on to his back is agonizing and fairly uncomfortable for the lashes he'd been given start to sting and remind him of his failure. He's still fingering the name of his soul mate, something he'd taken to doing once he found that it gave him a sense of security.

A column of light fills the room with a feeling of not belonging, he doesn't look at the person who gently chides him for being "stupid" as they gingerly help him into a sitting position, he doesn't look at the person who studies his freshly given wounds, he doesn't look as the person removes his ruined shirt and begins scrubbing him down with alcohol. He can't bear the thought of knowing his little sister is the one picking him up and putting him back together-it's like a slap in the face, an unintentional insult proclaiming that he's still weak compared to his "oh-so-perfect" sister.

"Really Zuzu," said girl speaks up, he doesn't flinch as she rubs an alcohol soaked cotton-ball over a particularly nasty lashing, "You need to learn some self-preservation instincts. I know you're dense, but this is the eleventh time this week-we're running out of medical supplies."

"Zuzu" or Zuko is sixteen years old and living with a horrid man for a father and a sadistic sister, younger than him by a year or so, his mother who'd been his savior and his father's soul mate had taken to running away, leaving him with people who see him as nothing more than living trash. Their father says she ran off with some man but Zuko knows a lie when he hears one, he may not be all that great when it comes to lying himself, but he's lived with Azula long enough to hear a lie and even though the boy loved, and still loves, his mother, he can't help but feel a little resentful towards her.

"You're going to need a haircut Zuzu," Azula continues, she's now bandaging his torso in gauze, "You're starting to look like a commoner."

And while the bruised and broken teen may not care what he looks like, a high-class family such as his, do. Some say he's handsome but the majority say he's pretty (and that in part is why his father finds him a disgrace). His hair's of midnight silk; eyes like the sun, equal in color and brightness; skin and body sculpted from fine marble-although-there's a horrid splash of reddened skin covering the left side of his face.

Another "lesson" reminder from his father.

Most people try not to stare out of politeness, but some whisper and talk behind their hands. Zuko's not entirely sure who he hates the most.

Azula now sits before him with a contemplative look; her eyes (so much like their father's) are trained on the chicken scratch upon the center of his chest (right where his heart is). Without much thought, Zuko knows she's looking at the name of his soul mate.

"What kind of name is "Jet"?" the girl frowns in disgust, "It sounds too-COMMON." Zuko doesn't reply, doesn't care to, "We're going to have to get rid of it."

Finally, Zuko deigns to speak, "Father's already tried."

And it's true, once the man found out Zuko's soul mate was destined to be of the same gender, he "flipped out" more or less and tried to carve it out of Zuko's chest with a pen-knife of all things, sad to say, it didn't work. With each treatment, the scrawl of letters prevailed, clear as day. Now his chest is a battleground of scars crisscrossing one another, all in the name of removing the unsightly "blemish" from his skin.

Oddly enough, Zuko finds himself wondering who Azula's soul mate is.

"Unlike father," said girl begins to speak, "I have a better solution than mutilating your body." this of course captures Zuko's attention as Azula pulls something from her blazer's pocket, it looks like a tube of lipstick, "This is concealer." the girl begins as she unscrews the lid, "We're about the same skin tone more or less so this SHOULD blend in with the rest of you."

Zuko feels his brows knit, "And you're sure the-," he hesitates, "-the "thing" won't show?"

Azula rolls her eyes, squirting a bit of the flesh colored makeup upon her index and middle finger, "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have suggested it."

Watching the girl's hand approach his bare flesh has Zuko unintentionally bracing himself for pain-but when nothing but cold creamy liquid touches his skin, he feels the tension melt from his body. Curious, he peers down at the warm fingers massaging the makeup onto his chest, he finds it odd that both his father and sister's hands are warm, considering their behavior, and to his amazement, the imperfection is disappearing. Not a hint of the messily scrawled name apparent ANYWHERE. He's not sure whether he should thank Azula or not, but the girl makes the decision for him as she begins packing up the medical supplies.

"You can thank me by going to the pharmacy and buying more supplies."

"Of course."

"Now," the girl stretches her arms above her head, "You've wasted enough of my time, get out of here."

Without having to be told twice, Zuko forces himself to his feet, his body stings and the bandages make him itchy, but he'll live-now to somehow get passed their father without alerting him to Zuko's destination. He stops within the doorframe.

"That stuff," he begins, refusing to meet his sister's eyes, "What is it?"

"Concealer." Azula snorts, "Here." Zuko turns just as she tosses the aforementioned object, he fumbles but he manages to keep a hold on it, "Have it. It's old and it's almost gone anyway."

"I-," Zuko struggles with himself, "Thank you, Azula."

"Didn't I tell you to get out?"

And with that icy remark, their bond severs, Zuko knows she's done being "nice" to him for today and as he makes for a quick escape he's instantly flanked by two guys in matching black suits and red ties, he backs away as if scalded and makes to look as threatening as he can, although he feels more like a kitten with its hackles raised. Behind him, he can hear Azula approaching.

"What's going on here?"

"We're from a branch of the Dai-Li Bureau and we've been ordered to evacuate your family."

Zuko frowns but straightens up, "Why are we being "evacuated"?"

"You're family is deemed important to the world and therefore must come with us."

"What about the rest of the people?" Zuko asks, he's equal parts alarmed and angered.

"Come with us." the man continues speaking like Zuko hadn't said a word, "Your father is waiting with the rest of the personnel."

The sixteen year old bristles, before he can so much as retort with a snide remark, Azula pushes past him with a, "Drop it Zuzu."

Scowling after his sister, Zuko follows hesitantly-if Azula is just as confused as he is, then this couldn't possibly be some orchestrated assassination attempt. Can never be too paranoid. But-why would they be evacuating their family? What reason do they have to uproot them?

_**BOOM!** _

The house shakes. Somewhere within the house, glasses break. The air fills with the droning of agonized moans and terrified screams. Guns pop like firecrackers. A siren blares its screeching alarm, signaling the oncoming horde, drowning out the rattling guns. It's as if someone flipped a switch. Zuko feels like he's been doused with ice water-but he doesn't have time to collect his thoughts when his whole world turns upside down and he finds himself staring at the polished floor of his home.

"Hey!" Zuko shouts, he begins wriggling, "Let me go!"

He's being held fireman carry, the man assisting him ignores him like before and continues on after his companion, Zuko grasps onto the back of the man's suit only to find the man is made of metal-as seems to be the trend for today, Zuko doesn't have much time to contemplate such an odd find. A window shatters nearby and before he knows it, the metal man jumps OUT of the shattered window. Alarmed, he holds on tight to the man's clothing. When they hit ground, he loses his breath. His vision blurring and darkening around the edges.

"Hey stupid." Zuko feels something prodding his bruised side, he winces, cracking his eyes open to see Azula glaring down at him, "Get up!"

A pair of hardened hands grab him under his armpits and lift him, he's manhandled towards a metal helicopter and he's not entirely sure what he's doing but he think he might be babbling something, it's when he thinks he's seated, he gets a hard slap across the face. The babbling stops. The ringing in his ears stop. Blinking, he finds himself staring in the face of his disappointed father and an embarrassed Azula. Most likely embarrassed by her brother's behavior.

The men that enter the helicopter, armed to the teeth with weapons, don't say anything as they seat themselves and the whirring of the 'copter begins-even HE'S embarrassed by his display of weakness.

"We're relocating your family to Avatar," a man speaks, "Is that okay, Mr. West?"

"That's fine."

"We'll be there within a three days time."

After the man finishes speaking, a calm dark falls over him-he dreams of fire sanitizing his body, scrubbing him clean; he dreams of voices all calling out for him; he dreams of a messily scrawled name written above his heart-when he wakes, he finds himself lying strapped to a metal examining table. His eyes meet that of a slimy looking man who's also looking back at him, his expression reads arrogant, confident, Zuko hates it but he can't find it in himself to hate the man, he hears the hissing of the locking mechanisms releasing, looking down at himself he sits up and stretches his limbs,

"How are you Event-9856?"

"Good." Zuko automatically replies.

"Excellent," the man goes on, "You will begin you're Sentry duties tomorrow. You're uniform is waiting for you."


	2. I: Ashes to Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Forge**

**Ashes to Ashes**

Lightning cracks across the dreary skies, thunder rolls over the land, the wind is howling and the rain most fouling. Not a ray of shine to be seen through the blanket of ominous clouds choking out the sun. It's cold. Or so Zuko thinks, he can no longer tell after they injected liquid fire into his system-they've done many-a-number of things to his body but he can't quite scrounge up the memories. He chances a look at the rest of his fellow Sentries and they appear just fine, all in perfect order, although some are in a state of undress taking in the fact the higher-ups had ordered them to the Bureau's landing pads in the wee hour of morning.

They stand there for thirty minutes when a man dressed in a heavy cloak separates them. He moves to the forefront of the sea of Sentries who watch him almost religiously, he gives them a quick once over before clearing his throat loud enough to be heard over Mother Nature herself.

"I'm sure some of you, if not, all of you, are wondering why you have been called out here at such an ungodly hour." he begins, "It has come to my attention that some information has been leaked to the public and now they claim us a monster." he scans the sea of faces, "But do not fret for **I** am the one who has revealed our SHIFTER project. I did not do this because I'm a traitor; I did this to show people that we ARE NOT weak! That we are CAPABLE of protecting ourselves AND those of this fair town! From the HORDE that plagues the world! When they come, and THEY WILL, we will be ready for them! We will make our stand here!"

The man is positively beaming with pride as the Sentries clap enthusiastically.

It sounds like the roaring of the ocean waves and it sets Zuko on edge, it makes him nervous, twitchy, enough so that he thinks he feels a panic attack coming on-he looks to his higher up; the man is strong-the boy focuses on the obvious fact. Anchoring himself to the world.

" _Concentrate on your superiors Event-9856, they will keep you strong."_

" _The SHIFTER project was a success!"_

" _There may be lingering side effects, Event-9856."_

" _Don't lose control Event-9856."_

When he comes to, he's standing before the mirror and sink, within the room he'd been issued, looking into his helmet's heavily black tinted visor. With not a second thought, he slips the helm on-he feels the familiar weight caressing his skull, he feels the oh-so-missed sense of security washing over him, he feels whole, he feels-gone.

**X**

With the nature of the weather being as it is, one is bound to find excitement somewhere within the hopelessly somber city such as the local pub where people would drown their sorrows in a strong mug of ale or perhaps the various streets where children would play within the rapidly growing puddles of spring rain. Well the eighteen year old currently walking with his head tucked in the collar of his jacket would tell you that you were dead wrong before offering honeyed words and a beguiling smile, don't misunderstand-he doesn't want to take pleasure from your tender, soft flesh, or you him, he merely wants what you have, for you see, he's in a bit of a tight spot and needs all the "help" he can get.

It's nothing personal. Truly. But he has obligations, promises to keep and he plans to carry and see each one out-he happens to be saving himself as well, saving himself for that special person he's truly meant for but has yet to find-his soul mate. The one soul destined to be yours. They say you'll meet your soul mate at one point in your life no matter where you are or how far you are, but with the world being ravaged by the sickness, some souls are unlucky enough to NEVER meet their other half for said half lies dead somewhere amongst the carnage. And the teenager, being the secret hopeless romantic he is, can't bear the thought of living without the love of his life (literally).

And speaking of romance and soul mates, his soul mate's name has been itching like crazy for the past few months.

He mumbles a quiet _"Christ."_ into cold hands.

Perhaps he should introduce himself for it would be proper etiquette would it not?

"What was I thinking coming out here?"

The young man in question is Jet and he's a Freedom Fighter-with an untamable mane of chocolate hair; engaging brown eyes; alluring sun-kissed skin; and a bewitching smile-he knows he's handsome, he knows he's charming, he knows he can bedevil you into doing just about anything he wants for many a victim has fallen prey to his roguish charm only to land on the Bureau's radar which is a place none want to find themselves in.

"Hello citizen."

The voice is emotionless, monotonous, it sounds mechanical and it sends unwanted chills down his spine. Turning on his heel, he sees a lone Sentry a few feet away in the middle of the drowning street-he vaguely notes that the Sentry's wildly billowing overcoat is the only thing that seems to be alive-it bothers him more than he likes.

"What d'you want?"

The patch of skin surrounding his soul mate's name begins to flare with heat and he wants to rip his shirt off and just scratch at it until he's scratched his skin raw and it either stops or calms down enough that it becomes the right amount of bearable to ignore.

"There is a storm." the Sentry continues, "You must seek shelter and wait it out."

Just to be difficult, Jet looks to the skies then the Sentry, "Why?"

"It's dangerous and you could get hurt."

Not able to stop his hand, he scratches at his chest, "If it's so dangerous, why are you out here?"

"I have duties to attend to." Jet really shouldn't find that as funny as he did, "I cannot rest. I must protect the citizens of Avatar."

"Right," Jet trails off, he's still scratching when he spots a group of thugs peering out of an alley, they give him the "shhh" motion followed by a "go on", Jet figures no one will cry for a Sentry so he does what he does best, talks, "So what, those crazy psycho bastards at the Bureau send you guys out no matter the weather-because it's pretty damn cold out here in case you didn't know. I think I'm going to get frostbite if I stay out any longer."

The Sentry lifts their hand as if to test the temperature, "Its cold. You should wait it out in the safety of shelter."

"That," Jet frowns, "That didn't even make sense you crazy fucker."

"I'd appreciate it if you not swear," the Sentry drones, "It disrupts the peace."

" _Bastard's_ okay to say but not _fucker_?"

"I'd appreciate it if you not swear, it-,"

"Disrupts the peace, yeah I get it." Jet watches as the biggest, bulkiest man creeps behind the Sentry, "What I don't get," Jet hums conversationally, "Is why they send only ONE of you out in weather like this."

The Sentry has no time to neither respond nor react as the large set man pounces on him, restraining him in a headlock that keeps him from moving his arms AND legs lest he risks the chance of paralysis. Jet approaches the two; the leader of the small group of thugs appearing from seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thanks for distracting the bastard, Jet."

"No problem." Jet has his eyes trained on the Sentry's visor, "So, what are you guys going to do with him?"

The man grins viciously, it's no secret the citizens of Avatar aren't fond of the Bureau, "We're gonna make an example of him."

Jet's only half listening, "Try not to get carried away, we don't want the Dai-Li to off us all."

"Ah Jet," the greasy man grins lasciviously, "Always the protector of the people-say, if you wanna make some quick cash you can always swing by my place. There are plenty of customers who're in the market for fine looking virgins such as yourself."

The Sentry quotes monotonously, "Prostitution is against Avatar Laws."

He's ignored. Jet glares at the pig of a man, "So you've said the past couple of times we've crossed paths."

"Because its true and a LOT of people have their eye on you." the man slinks into the Sentry's personal space, grabbing their chin and moving it left to right, the Sentry doesn't fight, "Hell. People even got a betting pool on you."

"Gambling is against Avatar Laws."

Jet unconsciously scratches at his chest, "Tch. Don't people have anything better to do?"

"Other than wait for Lord Death to come and collect our miserable souls?" the man's eyes are trained on Jet's hand now, "No." he remains silent a moment longer before meeting the teenager's eyes, "Say. How long have you been scratching at your chest?"

"Why?" Jet narrows his eyes, "Think you have a cure for it?"

"Maybe. They say the skin around your soul mate's name will begin to itch once you're both in the same vicinity."

This stops Jet's scratching, his mouth drops, "What?"

"Yeah," the man nods sagely cupping his double chin, "Although I haven't heard or come across a person with a name like "Zuko"." the pimp turns his attention to the Sentry, "What about you "hound"? Hear of anyone with a name like that?"

"I have."

Jet shoves the man away from the Sentry and places his hands on the captured form's shoulders, the itching stops automatically but its minor compared to his excitement, "Where!? Where is he!?"

"Event-9856 is I and I live to serve and protect the citizens of Avatar."

"What?" Jet frowns irritably, "I can't-that doesn't make sense!"

"Actually," the lumbering man holding the Sentry begins, "9856 is code for ZUKO. The Bureau uses numbers to spell out the names of their Sentries."

"Wait," Jet trails off letting the information sink in, "So that means," he looks into the Sentry's visor, "That means you're Zuko?"

"I," the Sentry begins,

"Wait, wait, wait." the pimp cuts in, he separates Jet from the Sentry, "Don't get your hopes up yet kid, this can't be right."

The group watch as the main man grabs either side of the Sentry's helmet and gives it an upward tug, the helmet comes off with ease and allows ink black hair to spill out and frame the face of a teenage male with impossibly bright eyes. The teen appears to be around Jet's age, give or take, he's alluring, there's no doubting that but his looks aren't what have the group staring, gob smacked, at the teen-it's the large, horrendous scar spread out over the left side of the boy's face.


	3. II: And Dust to Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Forge**

**And Dust to Dust**

_The music stops,_

Urgent beeps and chimes alerts a fair-skinned woman to a holographic screen flashing a bright red warning sign that illuminates half the technological room, dusky-gold eyes narrow almost imperceptibly in agitation as though the machine is to blame for doing its job. Pressing a lithe finger to the warning being issued, she is allowed in to a much larger screen holding various data on a young man with a heart and brain monitor going haywire-a panic attack. Letting out an inaudible sigh, the girl pulls up a box with various measurements set for the right amount of dosage required during a "relapse" but before she can press the application needed she feels an all consuming presence behind her, she doesn't react visibly as she subtly minimizes the window.

"They're going to need another test subject to work on." she concludes,

"Why so?" her companion hums-it's that dangerous hum the young woman knows all too well.

She turns to meet the other girl with a bored look, "Event-9856's mental state is beginning to deteriorate."

"Come now Mai," the overwhelming girl hums as she reaches around to pull up the window Mai tried to hide, "We both know you want to call Zuzu by his real name." she slips past the quiet girl to commandeer the screen, she presses the antidote needed, her cursed-gold eyes staring up at the draining of the dosage's bar, "I don't know why you feel the need to be so coy about your attraction to my brother."

"Azula-,"

"Though I must warn you Mai," Azula continues, eyes hard, "WE are soul mates and as confused as these experiments have made Zuko, he's bound to find his and when that happens, who do you think he'll choose?" Mai remains silent, "I thought so." Azula's eyes scour the screen, Zuko's heart rate and brain waves have slowed to a calm pace, "It appears you're right. The Dai-Li will have to find another test subject-anymore and he'll become nothing more than a living puppet."

_And you want to feel,_

Everything had been in slow motion, he'd seen the grubby man approaching and though he knew this, he could not move, did not want to move-it was when his helmet was removed and he was forced to face the reality he had so desired to leave behind that he felt a rise in panic that flooded his lungs and flowed through his veins. An all consuming panic that drove him mad. He looks to the group of men in hopes one would have mercy and DO something-they do nothing. Closing his eyes he hopes to shut the world out-as he does this, he feels a serene calm wash over him in the form of cool liquid shooting through his veins. He relaxes and he's able to breathe once more.

_But you're too afraid to let go._

A man shouts breaking the uneasy silence, "He's just a kid!"

Murmurs begin to float amongst the group of thugs as they shift and look to one another for a cue, even the large man holding the Sentry still seems just as anxious about the revelation as the rest. The murmurs continue until the head honcho steps forth with the helmet held in his fist-all eyes immediately fall to him.

"Who cares what he is!?" the man belts, he uses the helmet to point at the restrained teenager, "He still wears their uniform and submits to their rule! He's still a "hound" and "hounds" need to be taught a lesson!"

Jet grabs the man's wrist and pulls him back so they're face to face; he levels the man with a glare, "Don't touch him."

"Why?" the pimp turns his attention on the dusky-skinned male, "You were all too willing to let us do what we wanted to him 'til you up and learned he was your soul mate." Jet falls silent, always hating admitting when he was wrong-the pimp takes his action for something else, "Listen kid, I like you-along with half of Avatar-so I'm willing to cut you a deal. You give me your ass for a couple hours and I give you his so you guys can live happily ever after. Boom! Everyone wins." he offers Jet a hand, "So what do you say? Deal?"

"I'd rather choke on my own blood." Jet hisses,

"Fine." the older male has the gall to look haughty, "Then you die with your precious Sentry."

The pimp tosses the helmet down to pull out a sharpened penknife and levels it at Jet-that's as far as he gets for a loud "pop" barely audible over the storm's tantrum catches his attention and forces him along with everyone else to turn. The large set man holding their hostage looks alarmed and unsure as the raven-haired teenager thrashes and bares his teeth, his right arm is angled awkwardly, and his eyes are bright with rage and unfocused as though he's somewhere else.

"Hey-!" Jet shouts but the words die in his throat when those eyes fall on him.

Everyone can hear the hissing of water followed by the misplaced steam beginning to roll off the Sentry's body before being swept away by the howling winds, the man holding him screams in pain and releases his hold in order to tend to his newly acquired wounds, his hands are an angry shade of red with blisters marking his skin. The sixteen year old male makes for a horrifying sight with sulfur-yellow eyes blazing like wildfire; teeth, bright and flashing as if they belong to a beast; his inky black hair is sodden and sticks to pale flesh; with his right arm limp at his side and steam rising off him in droves he looks like an enraged spirit.

"What are you doing!?" the pimp yells, Zuko's eyes narrow in on him, "KILL HIM!"

The words don't register. They never do when he's angry, he just knows he has to act and in this particular case he's given an okay to kill. Subconsciously letting the liquid fire stale, Zuko slips into a defensive stance as shadows begin to fill his peripherals-a man to his right lunges, he's given a few seconds to resituate his body weight before using it for more force when his metal plated heel slams in to the guy's jaw. The guy goes down. Arms wrap around his body, grinding his right arm's joint, letting out a pained shout he grits his teeth and rears his head back, smashing the man's nose. He's dropped in time to see more men coming at him, some have weapons and some don't. A hand wraps around his right wrist, he turns ready to attack only for his mind to grind to a halt. It's the tanned boy.

"C'mon!" he shouts.

Zuko realizes a little too late that the guy's holding his RIGHT wrist, so when the guy tugs on his arm a blinding pain erupts and all he can see is white, the agony chokes out his will to fight-he thinks of an older man with eyes reminiscent of his own. The man is vague and cloaked in shadow. The man is ominous, he is cold, he is cruel, he is suffocating, and he demands Zuko's complete attention.

Hearing what he assumed was his beloved's cry of pain, Jet tries his best to hold on to his senses and not release the other lest the crowd of angered thugs grab hold and tear them apart-he's only grateful knowing the men weren't stupid enough to use guns. With adrenaline rushing through his system, the tanned boy doesn't dare stop or slow down, his mind running through various escape routes and "blueprints" which shows just how well adapted the eighteen year old is when it comes to life-or-death situations-when they turn a hard left, Jet thinks he hears the other babbling incoherently. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he's met with a rather odd sight-the other boy has his eyes screwed shut, a look of fear and pain fighting for dominance, and he isn't sure but he thinks the guy is CRYING. Looking past Zuko, Jet notes that the men are no longer tailing them (he wonders when the men stopped). Slowing to a stop, he releases his hold on the Sentry's wrist, the latter falling on his rump in a puddle of dirty rain water curling in on himself as a series of strained hiccups wrack his body.

"Zuko?" they've literally just met and Jet isn't sure what he's supposed to do but he kneels before the other, "Hey Zuko-come on Beautiful, don't cry."

And it's like someone somewhere flips a switch, the soaked teenager goes from crying (or hiccupping) to glaring at him, sulfur-yellow eyes burning bright. Jet believes he just got whiplash from the serious mood swing the other seems to be exhibiting.

"Don't call me _THAT_ ever again." Zuko hisses,

Jet flounders, eyes wide, "W-What? "Beautiful"?"

The Sentry isn't sure WHY he despises the compliment but he finds himself nodding, "Yes, _THAT."_

"But you are-,"

"Shut UP!" Zuko stands furiously glaring down at the bewildered teenager, "Don't call me _THAT!_ I'm not _beautiful!_ " _"You look so much like your mother-I hate it."_ a voice growls from the dark of his mind. Turning his glare on to his surroundings, he finds that he's lost, "Where am I?"

"Avatar." sneers Jet, in the back of his mind he knows he shouldn't antagonize his soul mate-the glare he receives reaffirms this notion, rolling his eyes, he stands, "You're in the lower district of the city-I guess you wouldn't know about it since none of you guys patrol the area often."

Frowning thoughtfully, the Sentry scans the buildings around the muddy road, none of the buildings are very tall which means he can't climb one and get a bird's eye view. Not only that, but the buildings in the distance are fairly taller than the ones here. Heavily exhaling through his nostrils, he runs a muddy hand through his soaked hair- _helmet._

"My helmet-!" Zuko exclaims, he looks around as though he just dropped it, "Where is it!?"

"I think that bastard has it." Jet shrugs looking to the skies noticing the rain has slowed, Zuko feels everything beginning to close on him, "Why?"

"I-I need it." Zuko says, he turns to retrace their steps only to find they're in a four-way street. Everything is so loud, the wind, the drizzle of the rain, shaking his head, he turns to Jet, "I need to find it. I need it."

Jet frowns, "What, now?"

"I need it." Zuko nearly whispers, he turns to go down one of the streets when a hand touches his shoulder, spinning on his heel, he grabs the offending appendage and twists it behind the other's back, "DON'T TOUCH ME."

"Hey, hey! Okay!" Jet shouts, Zuko lets him go-Jet rolls his shoulder, watching the Sentry scan his various options, "Listen," Jet begins, Zuko turns on him, "I'll help you look for your stupid helmet-," this gets a glare, "-but we're going to have to wait out the storm." he turns on his heel, "I'm going to get pneumonia if I don't get home soon. C'mon, you can wait out the storm with me."

**X**

Dark brown (almost black) eyes lined with coal liner stare at the ridiculous ticking clock their friend insisted they get. A young teenage girl dressed in a camel-colored spaghetti tank with worn gray skinny jeans sighs through plump lips, she moves to the worn, homey couch which is another thing her friend insisted they get, her bare feet ghosting over the white carpeted floor. Speaking of her friend, he hasn't returned since he left the house in search of entertainment-as though it were rehearsed, she hears the door rattle before opening.

"Honey I'm home~!"

She quietly snorts at her friend's demeanor and gets up to greet him, rounding the corner, she opens her mouth to offer up a retort when she spies another person standing tall at her friend's side-he's dressed in a Sentry uniform-her heart drops, her eyes flicking from her friend to the Sentry, both are thoroughly soaked and she wonders what Jet did to warrant an escort home-she sees the way the young man's right arm is hanging limp, she wonders if her friend was cause for that.

"Jet?" she begins, voice guarded, "Who's this?"

Jet GLOWS as he turns to their visitor, "This is Zuko. Zuko, this is my friend Smellerbee-or Bee for short."

"Zuko?" Smellerbee mimes, she's looking at the yellow-eyed teen-he's a good few inches taller than Jet and everything opposite, where Jet is tan he is pale, where his eyes are dark his are bright. "As in your _soul mate_ Zuko?"

"Yeah~."

"I told you," Zuko speaks up, "I don't HAVE a soul mate."

"Then how is YOUR name on my chest?" counters Jet,

"I don't-how are you sure it's even MY name!?" Zuko's glaring at Jet, "It could be some _other_ "Zuko"!"

"I doubt that." Jet deadpans.

"Let me see then." Zuko hisses, reaching for the hem of Jet's shirt,

"Fine." Jet huffs removing his shirt and dropping it with a "plop" onto the tiled floor, he puffs his chest out to reveal a hastily written but nonetheless elegant " _Zuko West_ " scrawled across his chest, "See!"

Zuko's lips part, "I don't-but I don't have a soul mate-,"

"That can't be," Jet frowns, "Show me."

Zuko begins undoing the clasps on his shoulder pads with one hand followed by the chest/torso piece, the pieces fall to the floor with heavy "thunks" revealing his toned abdomen-unaware of the looks he was given by both Jet and Smellerbee. Reaching behind him, he manages to unzip the upper part of his one-piece suit. Peeling off the top, Zuko falters once he sees the crisscross of scars marring his chest-a wave of shame hits him, there is no name.

"See."

"I don't understand." Jet frowns, drawing closer he studies the battlefield of scars where a name-HIS NAME should have been, "What happened?"

"I-when I was younger, I waited patiently for a name to appear." Zuko begins, his eyes get a glazed look, "But as time went on and I still had nothing, I thought it was a mistake of some kind and so I did anything I could to SOMEHOW make a name appear." he ran his fingers over the scarred patch of skin, "It never did. I was told I was one of the rare ones who never formed a name. I guess my soul mate wasn't born this time-or if I even have one."

"But-," Jet trails off, he presses his fingers against the ruined skin, he runs his hand over the blank space, his pinky finger brushing against one of Zuko's hardened nipples, Zuko grabs his wrist in a vice-grip, "Accident." he says, pulling out of Zuko's grip, the Sentry only glares, "But-this is YOUR name, I don't-wait!" he turns to face the girl who'd been enjoying the sight of their well-toned bodies, "Hey Bee, do we have some paper and pencil?"

"Yeah," Bee replies hesitantly, "Why?"

"Get it and bring it here, we're gonna have Zuko write his name."

"Okay-." she trails off but does as asked.

"I don't see the point in this." Zuko mutters, "I don't HAVE a name. In fact, I don't even know YOUR name."

"Name's Jet."

"Jet?" Zuko tests the name- _"What kind of name is Jet?"_ an indistinct feminine voice asks, he can't help but repeat the question, "What kind of name is "Jet"?"

"It's MY name so shut up." Jet jabs, "Follow me, let's get out of these clothes and in to something dry."

Untrusting, Zuko watches "Jet" toe off his muddy boots before trekking in to the den with his back on Zuko, not once looking back-in the back of his mind he knows this is a show of "trust"-hesitating, Zuko looks to his own muddied boots before reaching down and pressing his pointer and middle finger against a pressure release, he hears the familiar hissing of the boots expanding as though they're inhaling and allowing him to slip out with ease. Setting them neatly against the wall, he enters the den, stopping short. The house is warm and extremely well lived in, it's a contrast to the cold metals and emotionless decorations within his own room. He likes it.

"Hey Bee!" Jet shouts, "We're gonna change real quick, okay!?"

"Okay!" comes a muffled reply from somewhere within the house.

"All right," Jet faces him with a grin, "Follow me."

Watching the teen walk down the semi-dark hall, Zuko coils his muscles before stalking after the other. The Sentry's led down the hall, they pass a few closed doors made of wood until they come upon one that's opened just a crack. Jet pushes the door open and enters, fully expecting Zuko to follow his lead. Inside the room, Zuko can't help but let his eyes wander over the various objects and possessions housed within the room until they land on the only living thing in the room-Jet-frowning at the chuckle that comes from the other, Zuko glares at his own two feet, digging his toes in to the carpet he listens to the other boy rummaging through what he assumes is his dresser. He's only mildly surprised when a pair of clothes is thrust before him. Looking up, he sees Jet's brow raised in silent question.

"What?" Zuko rasps.

A lecherous grin splits the boy's face, "Aren't you going to change?"

It takes Zuko a moment to let it sink in before his face heats up in indignation, "Not in front of you." he snarls, the laugh this earns him makes him bristle even more.

"All right, all right." Jet chuckles, "The bathroom is down the hall and to the left. Opposite of the stairs that lead down into the basement."

Nodding curtly, Zuko spins on his heel and treks out of the bedroom, closing the door out of common courtesy for Jet-although he's pretty sure the other wouldn't have cared either way. Nearing the door at the end of the hall, Zuko stops to peer down the stairs, a strange curiosity blooming within his chest. Frowning, he squashes the feeling and opens the door.

Dried and dressed, Jet wanders in to the den once more where he finds Smellerbee and Longshot lounging around the island serving as a boundary between the kitchen and the den. He doesn't need to say a word for they look up. He stops.

"I was telling Longshot about our guest." Smellerbee states.

"And?" Jet narrows his eyes,

"And how you think he's your soul mate."

"He IS." Jet stresses, "The name on my chest is his, if it wasn't he would have said something. He didn't. He just said he DIDN'T have a soul mate."

"And he DOESN'T." Smellerbee begins, "He doesn't HAVE YOUR name or ANYONE'S name on his heart. Not only that Jet but he's a SENTRY. A "HOUND"-,"

"EXACTLY." Jet interrupts, "You know the Bureau, Bee." he frowns, "They like to _experiment_ on people. Who's to say they didn't do something to HIM?"

"And who's to say they DID?" Smellerbee tries, Jet falls silent, "Jet, I-WE know how much you want to find your soul mate but this guy isn't it. You heard what he said about wishing he did have one. The look in his eyes as he said it-that wasn't fake. I know the Dai-Li are known to experiment on people they hire but I doubt even THEY can erase a soul mate's name, let alone their memory. It just-that sounds WAY to complex."

The frown that takes the place of her friend's usual cocky smirk makes her uncomfortable, it makes her feel as though she's failed him somehow, biting on her lower lip she wonders if she should say more to somehow lighten the mood when they each hear the clicking of a door opening down the hall. Jet looks at her, his eyes are uncharacteristically dull.

"We should help set his arm in place." is all he says, he turns to face the opening of the hall, "Hey Sentry! Come here!"

_Failure._

**X**

Gradually coming to the conscious world, the milky-skinned sixteen year old became aware of a bothersome itching sensation around his wrist as well as his sawdust mouth. Clenching the sheets beneath his hands until his knuckles turned an even lighter shade of white; he opened his eyes, revealing sulfur-yellow eyes to the world. Head lolling to the right, Zuko spies a closed wooden door opposite of his position-he's in someone's room. Jet. Tired anger forces his movements. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he's about to head towards the door when he notices the bandages wrapped around his right wrist, Brows knitting at the absurdity of it, he brings the appendage eyelevel and studies the wrappings-it was somewhat new which meant that whatever the reason for it being there wasn't bad enough to NEED any medical aid. Unwrapping the gauze he finds a thin scar perpendicular with his arm, it's a good two inches in length. Whoever had done it obviously knew what they were doing. Anger becoming more defined Zuko makes for the door and throws it open.

Storming down the darkened hall, he enters the den where he finds Jet sitting upon the couch with a book in his possession. The tanned boy looks up shortly before snapping his book shut-a brash smirk spreading across his mouth.

"Well good morning Sleeping Beauty." the teenager goes on, "It's been THREE days since you fell asleep, we were beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up."

Zuko narrows his eyes, "What happened?"

Jet places his book on the coffee table before him, "I didn't drug you if that's what you're thinking." he stands, "No, you fell asleep on the couch so I had to move you to my room, get you out of the way. The Bureau's pretty shit at taking care of their investments if you slept like the dead that entire time."

Zuko remains silent, tossing the information around in his head, "How long did you say I was out?"

"About three days."

"Where's my uniform?" he demands,

"Why?"

"I need to leave and I need to find my helmet."

Jet schools his features, "It should be downstairs on the drier."

Focusing on Zuko, the other turns on his heel and makes for the stairway at the end of the hall, once he's out of sight Jet moves to his bedroom- _m_ _oving the deadweight Sentry to his room had proved to be easier than he'd originally expected since Jet was sure Zuko had been a good three or so inches taller than him before. Laying the slumbering raven on the bed, the eighteen year old took a step back to view the still form-a blue flicker caught his attention. Zeroing in on the light, he awaited the light's arrival, the light blinked once again._

" _What the hell?" he murmurs kneeling at bedside, grabbing Zuko's arm he studies the male's wrist, "What is this?"_

_Watching the small dot light up once again, he places the boy's arm at his side, stands and exits the room-five hours later he's back with the metal clad helmet Zuko had worried for and three others, two being Longshot and Smellerbee, one being one of their many allies within Avatar. The third is an elderly bespectacled man with a bony frame, he's dressed in mismatched rags scrounged from the streets and wherever else._

_Impatient, Jet snaps, "Well?"_

" _It appears to be a chip buried within his wrist." the man says from his crouched position, "I'm not sure what it's purpose is, and we won't know unless you give me the word to extract it from his flesh."_

" _Do it." Jet says without hesitance,_

" _Jet," Smellerbee calls, "Are you sure?"_

" _I am."_

" _All right." the old man begins, "This may take some time."_

" _Just do it."_

_It had been a unique device, complex, but they weren't able to determine its purpose for three seconds after removing it from the Sentry's flesh it fried itself-not quite liking the odds, Jet had taken a sledgehammer to the helmet. One would be surprised what they could find lying around the streets._

Grabbing the dark red scarf, Jet exits his room and goes downstairs. Resting against the wooden railing, he watches Zuko reach down and press his fingers to his boots-he hears the hissing and watches with a slight fascination as the boots form to fit the Sentry's shin/feet better-unable to help himself, he speaks up giving away his location.

"I noticed that thing you wear looks like a leotard."

"It isn't."

"Are you sure?" Jet continues, "It's pretty skin tight-do you even WEAR anything underneath it." he notes Zuko's hesitance and grins, "You don't do you."

"I-no." Zuko refuses to meet his gaze and fiddles with his gloves, "Like you said, it's skin tight."

"Well that'll fuel me for a couple of daydreams."

Zuko snaps a glare on him, "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Jet hums, "Just came to ask if I could join you on your hunt."

"Why?"

"Maybe I want to spend time with you."

"Don't talk like that." the Sentry hisses, "We barely know each other."

Jet watches the pale teenager walk to the staircase, "Don't have to know you to think you're pretty damn hot."

A disgusted grimace makes itself at home upon Zuko's face as he passes the brazen male, this doesn't deter Jet for he follows along after the other. Nearing the front door, Jet picks up the pace and rounds on Zuko, blocking the other teenager's path.

"Now what?"

"Before we go out, I just want to give you something as a replacement for your helmet."

Zuko arches his good brow, "It better not be something stupid."

"It isn't." Jet holds out the dark red scarf, "Here, it's a head wrap, could be used as a scarf if you want."

Staring at the proffered article, Zuko gingerly reaches out and takes the piece of clothing and brings it to his chest-not quite sure what to do but knowing enough to know that he should say something along the lines of expressing his gratitude, Zuko wraps the cloth around his head and neck region. His eyes meet Jet's and he _feels_ something but it's gone before he can register it properly.

"Thank you."

Offering the semi-startled boy a quirk of his lips, Jet spins on his heel and leads the way to the exit with Zuko following at a much slower pace. The midmorning is warm and it offers promise for a great day, walking along the wired fences of the houses, Jet and Zuko pass an elderly woman out enjoying the morning sun when they're called over.

"Jet my boy," the old woman smiles as Jet sidles up beside the fence, "I heard you've been up to no good again. Be careful or those Sentries will be on you like bees to honey."

"I'm sure the Bureau has more important things to worry about than me and my pranks," Jet offers a simpering grin, "Besides, who doesn't like to mix it up every once in a while."

The old woman laughs, Zuko shifts his weight from foot to foot catching the old woman's eye, "Who's this young lad?"

"This is Zuko," Jet states, "New friend of mine."

"Zuko," the old woman hums thoughtfully, "That name sounds SO familiar. Where have I heard that name before?"

"Me." Jet reminds,

"Oh yes!" the old woman snaps her fingers, "That's the name of your soul mate isn't it?"

"Yes but-,"

"My, my he's such a fine young man." she interrupts, "Come here," she gestures for Zuko to come closer, "Let Ol' Mauve take a look at ya." casting an unsure glance at Jet, Zuko takes a step forward and nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a warm hand cup his jaw line, she grabs his hand as well as Jet's, "It's always nice to finally meet the love of your life," she begins, "Cherish it boys, finding the one you're meant to be with is a powerful thing." she places Zuko's hand in Jet's, "Life is unfair especially nowadays, love is even more so." Zuko feels unorthodox, "So long as you have each other, you'll make it through anything. Understand?"

"Yeah," Jet murmurs,

Mauve looks to Zuko, "And you?"

Zuko finds it hard to speak, he nods weakly, "Understood."

Mauve smiles and clenches their hands, "Good." releasing their hands she wipes at her eye, "Now go on and enjoy the rest of your day boys."

Turning away from the woman, Zuko slips his hand out of Jet's- _you're green with envy, you want what they have but you're too far gone._


	4. III: Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Forge**

**Judgment**

Within the light consuming darkness slithered a slippery figure, a lithe figure dressed head-to-toe in black fabrics with only piercing demon eyes as a clue to their true identity. Through the streets the prowler crawls unhindered, further and further through the quiet streets until they reach the great metal walls-walls that divide the safe haven from the ravenous horrors meandering beyond. Composing their figure, the person removes a cotton-spandex glove from their hand and presses their palm flat against the bulky surface of the wall, closing their molten eyes, their extremity begins to glow a reddish hue and it's not too long that the metal beneath their palm melts. Hot metal gobs dribble over skin and metal surface alike-the air begins to reek of burning flesh and cloth. The stranger only continues.

Once there is a considerable hole in the wall-that is not too small yet not too large-and a weakening of the supporting sheets that the creeper stops and procures a gleaming knife from the folds of their clothes. Pressing the cool edge of the knife to their already injured palm, they flick their wrist causing beads of blood to spring forth. Flexing their cut hand, the person watches as blood slowly pools in their palm. Once there is a sufficient amount, they smear the liquid along the rim of the breach, painting the surrounding area as well. Pulling their mask down, a quick tongue darts out to lap at the blood while the hand holding the knife raps against the metal wall. It takes only a minute for a garbled reply.

**X**

"Well?"

"Nothing." Zuko laments as Jet takes a spot beside him, "Look babe-,"

"Don't CALL me that."

"Yeah, yeah. Listen-," Jet fishes out a cigarette from his pocket, "-even if you DO find someone who knows what happened to that stupid helmet of yours, I'm pretty sure its long gone by now. Fuck, with that little stunt you pulled are you sure the Bureau even WANTS you back?" he clicks his lighter and the flame springs to life, the fire greedily licking the tip until it catches. Snuffing the flame, he stores his lighter away, "You've been gone for THREE days. Now, I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure you broke a few regulations with that one."

Zuko stares at the teen inhaling the toxic fumes, "They will. It's where I belong."

Stealing a glance, Jet studies Zuko's profile, "Are you sure THEY feel the same?"

Zuko, who had been chewing on the inside of his lip, pauses, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he releases a puff of smoke, "While you were out cold, I went about my business and there was no one, and I mean NO ONE talking about a missing Sentry or anything remotely Bureau related. And I should know; people in Avatar like to talk." the smoker watches his companion shift through different expressions before pushing off the wall, throwing his cigarette to the ground he follows suit, "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the Bureau don't give a shit about you-or anyone else for that matter."

"I-," the Sentry stops in the middle of the bustling street, "They aren't like that. And because no one is talking doesn't mean anything. They're probably just-keeping it quiet, or-,"

"Or they really don't care."

"They care!" the stressed teen shouts, successfully capturing the attention of some passer-bys, "They have to. They took me in when I had nowhere else to go! They gave me shelter, food, clothes-I was their best Sentry. I was their first successful SHIFTER. I-they cared for me!"

The earthen male is, for a lack of better wording, shocked upon hearing the other's warring outburst, he watches with an expert eye and an amateur heart-the boy's shoulders are slumped inward, head bowed, he's unmoving; random strangers cast him curious, and sometimes worried, glances. It comes a second later, the Sentry is exhibiting the feeling of loss.

"Look Zuko," Jet extends a hand but lets it fall a second later, "I know you feel lost b-,"

"Lost?" Zuko repeats caustically, "LOST?" he wheels to face a shell-shocked Jet, eyes livid and far too bright, "I'm not LOST. I know EXACTLY where I am and what I LIVE for! What I don't know is what YOU want or what YOU'RE doing here!"

"Don't you DARE turn this on me!" Jet hisses with just as much acidity, a crowd begins to form, "Not when you don't even know who YOU are-!"

_**BOOM-!** _

Everyone and everything falls silent, birds scatter and take to the skies, its eerie as all eyes turn to the billowing cloud in the distance, an excruciatingly long second later, the discordant tolling of the heavy iron church bells begin clanging their alarm:

"Guys." Jet gasps, he grabs Zuko's wrist and tugs him in the direction of his shared home, "We gotta get Bee and Long!"

The raven-haired teenager in all his muddled thoughts can only follow obediently, his intensely amber eyes trained on the dust cloud as it begins to dissipate, among the panicked cacophony of cries and shouts, he can distinctly hear an odd pulsating drone as well as quick, short lived "pops".

_Blinking once, he's in the hall of some grand mansion decorated in shades of fine crimson and rich gold, his world spins and everything blurs, he can see a blurred figure of what appears to be a female following him along with what appears to be one of the units from the Bureau. When the unit touches the girl, they disappear. Everything in the house distorts and starts to lift._

" _What-wait!"_

_The glass in the never ending hall implodes and before he knows it, he's freefalling, twisting his body around, he sees the ground miles and miles away, and although he doesn't appear to be getting closer, he still panics. Spinning back, he begins looking for some form of salvation, something to grab a hold of such as a window sill or maybe a tree branch, but there is nothing, no extravagant building, no landscape, just an endless sky. Horrified, he turns to face the earth only to find that he is seconds away, he shuts his eyes-in the back of his mind he thinks it's impossible to be so close when he'd originally been so far away-he hits the ground._

Tumbling to his hands and knees, his body lurches forward violently as he retches, his stomach vainly trying to scrounge up SOMETHING-coughing and hacking, he spots muddied twin boots in his teary vision, he FEELS hands on his shoulders.

"Hey," a voice soothes, its equal parts worried and hurried, "You alright?"

"G'offa'me," Zuko slurs, shoving at the hands, "'m fine."

This is apparently the wrong thing to say for the owner of the voice and boots let out an annoyed sound, rough hands drag him to his feet, "We don't have TIME for this! We gotta find-!"

"JET!"

Said man turns on his heels in time to see both Smellerbee and Longshot running towards them through the thick of the frenzied crowd, he pulls the disoriented male after him.

"Guys, you're okay!"

"Yeah," Smellerbee is breathless, no doubt having had to run from the house to here, "We heard the bells, is-have you seen any of them?"

"No," Jet shakes his head, "Not yet."

"They must still be at the breach." Longshot says evenly, the bizarreness of hearing the silent man talk snaps Zuko out of his stupor, "This means we have enough time to get to the shelter without incident."

"Right." Jet nods, "Let's go."

They begin running. Running faster than those around them, they're fluid in their movements, trained, and Zuko has to wonder how the group came to be-he feels something overwhelming slowly drawing closer-it calls to him, he NEEDS to snuff it out. The unseen call is short lived once he sets his eyes on the familiar building of the Bureau, they slow to a hurried amble, there's a swarm of people pushing and shoving, each clawing to get their way in to the large metal bunker where atop said safety is a line of six Sentries, each decorated in their gray metal armor and holding an oddly designed rifle in their hands. The quartet stops at the edge of the crowd, its then that Zuko feels a warmth begin to spread from his hand, looking down, he lays eyes on a tan fingers interlaced with his own. He blinks, confused, wondering WHY it was there. Just WHY.

Something within the core of his chest extends outwards, it calls for action. Getting a hold of himself, he disentangles his hand from Jet's, he pushes the teenager and his two friends closer to the crowd and turns to leave when the very same hand he'd released grabs his wrist, he tenses and pivots on his heel ready to snap:

"Don't T-,"

"Don't touch you." Jet rolls his eyes, letting go, "I KNOW all right. But-where are you going?"

"I'm a Sentry no matter what and it is my duty to protect the citizens of Avatar." the words spill without him meaning for them to,

"God, can you not-just drop the Sentry bullshit 'kay. They don't fucking CARE about you." Jet's stressing, "You lost your fucking helmet, you're not even wearing your stupid armor-you're not ARMED. You're a civilian just like everyone else so you've GOT to come with us!"

"I-CAN'T." Zuko spits, something just isn't right, "You're here, you're safe along with the rest of these people, but I still have others to tend to."

Jet's mouth pinches minutely, "Then I'm coming with you."

"No. You've got to stay here, I'm a SHIFTER and you're-you." Zuko can't deal with the look in the other's eyes, "You-I promise I'll come back."

It's rushed and perhaps a lie, but it gets his point across, yet Jet's still frowning, he opens his mouth to retort and Zuko swears that he's going to shove the guy through the crowd and into the bunker himself until Smellerbee steps forward. Catching the attention of both males.

"Go. We'll make sure he stays."

Grateful, Zuko nods and runs across the high rise metal fence and reaches the entrance to the Bureau's grounds. Entering the den, he scans the empty entrance room, everything is still as meticulous as it's always been but he can't hear nor see anyone else. Muttering quietly to himself and no one else, he runs through the dark, empty halls until he comes across the room he'd been looking for. Entering his number, he steps back as the door hisses and slides back, he slips through but slows to a stop upon seeing a female dressed in the uniform for the higher-ups. Her hair is inky black and she's looking up at the numerous screens placed upon the wall. Behind him, the door hisses shut, the woman turns and with little thought, Zuko stands at attention, an old habit-the woman is a Caliber, the highest ranking Sentry, her hair, skin, and eye colors are similar to Zuko's own; but her eyes are sharper, colder-he feels mildly disoriented, a ghost from his past brushing his mind.

"Look who's come back from the dead." she sings, her voice melodiously cruel, "Event-9856. Reports have indicated that you were "deceased"." the raven male feels small under her stare, "Care to explain?"

"I'm sorry." Zuko dips his chin towards his chest, "I do not know either, Caliber."

The Caliber hums to herself, he hears the click-clacking of her shoes, something close to electric fear runs up his spine, "Come here Sentry."

Swallowing the anxiety beginning to build in his throat, he moves to the metal table and sits as instructed, he keeps his head bowed as the woman reaches for something akin to a handheld metal detector. She sweeps the mechanism over his arm, or to be exact, the wrist where the bandage had been earlier that day. He notes the odd burn on her right hand. The silver metal device gives off a mismatched beep and the lights, originally blue, turn red. Her cold eyes study the screen of the device, Zuko can't help but flinch when her eyes flit to him.

"Your chip is missing."

His brows pinch, "My-what?"

Her eyes harden, he realizes he hadn't been all that elegant since they'd met, "Someone has found the chip the Bureau places in all their Sentries. It's only one of many that currently resides just beneath your flesh, and apparently the one that scans your vitals has been removed." the Sentry grabs his wrist with a frown, he's not sure who he's more vexed at; Jet or the Bureau. "Where is your helmet?"

"A man took it."

"I suppose that explains the unraveling. I can see it clearly now, they really HAVE done a number on your mind." her demeanor becomes icy, "It appears they've lied to me as well," she turns to the screens, activating them in one go, Zuko steps closer to the wall of screens, eyes scanning every one of them, upon the screens are live footage of outside the building: infected are drawing closer, the people trying to get into the bunker are panicking, the Sentries holding the rifles are shooting-his heart stops cold when he sees the bunker door closing, with people still outside, "I suppose the Bureau, or the "Dai-Li", deserve the fall of their "kingdom" after all."

"What are they doing?" Zuko's near hysterics, "There's STILL people out there!"

"Did you honestly believe the Bureau wanted to save them all?" the girl huffs, "You want to hear a little secret that only a few of us higher-ups know?"

He knows better, something TELLS him he shouldn't ask her, "What?"

"Everything you were taught about the Bureau BY the Bureau was a lie. They don't care about anyone else, they're only looking out for themselves."

Zuko distinctly remembers Jet saying something along those lines, "That's what he told me."

This has the girl frozen mid-action, "Who?"

"I-some guy named Jet." Zuko says dismissively.

The girl frowns but before she can make a move, they hear panicked shouting from somewhere in the halls, without a second thought, Zuko moves to the door and spies three preteens sprinting down the hall with a group of the faster moving infected chasing after them. One of them, a monk if Zuko is to judge by appearances, spots him and seemingly alerts the other two to his presence. The group moves to the door and bangs on the bulletproof glass, he hears the Caliber behind him mutter something caustic as he opens the door for the group. He only watches as they stumble in before he shuts the door and metal shutters cover the outside.

"Hey, thanks man," the boy with browned skin and blue eyes speaks up, "I thought we were goners for sure."

"You're welcome." Zuko nods curtly, he turns his attention to the Caliber, "I'm going to need some armor and weapons if I'm going back out there."

"And what good will a relapsed Sentry do?"

"Whatever I can do." Zuko says, "There are people out there who need my help. I-even if everything I was taught was a lie, I STILL want to help."

The Caliber snorts, "You were always too soft for your own good Zuzu."

The name hits him hard as the two boys snicker at the nickname, he wheezes out a weak, "What?"

" _Don't turn this on me!" Jet's voice snaps, "Not when you don't even know who YOU are!"_

_Does he know something?_

"Oh," the female seems vaguely surprised, "I forgot about your "clean slate"."

_Betrayed._

_Nauseous._

_Hateful._

"How about a trade?" the Caliber purrs dangerously, "I'll help you regain your memories IF you leave the Bureau with me. Deal?"

Zuko looks at his female counterpart and nods, "Deal."

"Whoa," the brown skinned boy whispers loudly, "Sentry turn-coats."

_Turn coat._

It sits wrong in his mind, but it's what he's doing after all, isn't it?


	5. IV: Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Forge**

**Ghosts**

Let it not be said that there is something occult in witnessing the end of another's life, an entity that ignites the tumultuous rhythm of the heart, the singing and thrumming of the sanguine liquid and all its liveliness, the whirring of the mind with thoughts far too morbid to regale. This, the very least, is what occurs within the earthen young man who'd yet to bat a lash in the face of the unfortunate crowd's demise-the shock of death having lost its flair so long ago when he'd been a lone wretch wandering the forests of his demolished community. Although, this did not mean he was unfeeling, he was still human and as a human being he still had feelings, dreams; he is enraged that the Bureau had turned out to care so little for THEIR citizens, leaving them to a horrid death, he is worried for the wanderer that is his soul mate, he is AFRAID of losing said soul to the sickened hordes plaguing the earth-yes, he was still very much human.

Fist pressed against the elegant ink hidden beneath his well-worn shirt, he sighs, "I should have gone with him."

"Jet," Smellerbee speaks, she's weary and completely somber, her soul mate's fingers entwined with her own, "I'm sure he'll be fine, he's a trained Sentry after all."

"Yeah," Jet stresses, muscles tensing, "But-,"

"Have any of you been issued a room?"

The trio turn from the metal barrier to examine the intruder; the intruder is female with creamy skin, ink-black hair done up in an interesting style, her eyes are a monotone gold, she's dressed in the familiar Bureau long-skirt uniform with a data-pad held in a feminine hand. She's pretty, if a little-stifling, but Jet's already comparing her looks to Zuko's.

"A room?" the wild-haired teenager is the first to ask,

"I'll take that as a "no"." the Bureau handler sighs, her unoccupied hand goes through a series of motions upon the device, a second later she turns on her heel, "Follow me."

**X**

Aware was he, with sulfur-yellow eyes smuggled beneath closed lids, of the cold blade slicing skin, a sinister counterpart to the warm plasma leaking out, while the blade was quick, the crisp pain lingered, drudging up dusty memories from a life forgotten. The memories were fast, here one second and gone the next, enough so they scarcely left an impression. His skin prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck rose, he was being watched. Opening his eyes, he glanced towards the entryway, almost immediately his eyes met that of the young child-monk with eyes wide, curious and worried. The clinking of metal on metal brought him from his staring contest:

"There." the Caliber plucked a cloth from her cart of tools, "I've removed all of the chips from your body."

Sitting upright, he winced at the uncomfortable feel of skin splitting, glancing down, he sees crimson painting porcelain-lips pulling down into a frown, he glares at the Caliber, "You couldn't have stitched the wounds?"

The Caliber, in all her malignity, huffs, "You're a SHIFTER, you can heal yourself." she turns sharply and grabs a nearby helmet, "Get dressed and get your armor, I've got a plan to get us out of here."

"ALL of us?" Zuko harps, he notes the split-second tension in the girl's shoulders.

"Yes, ALL of us." by her tone, the EX-Sentry knows she's rolling her eyes, "I'll disable the white-noise in the helmet while your primping."

Frowning harder, he slips off the metal tabletop and makes for the closed vault door opposite of their faux-pas operation, nearing the metal giant, he finds the keypad and taps in his pass code, seconds later he hears the releasing of the door's mechanisms. Taking a step back, he watches the heavy door sweep open to reveal the armory behind. Slipping on the upper half of his suit, he notices the faint reddish glow surrounding the cuts, upon closer look; he realizes his skin is stitching itself back together. Marveling over his recent find, he's unaware of the approaching footsteps until a hand pats his shoulder-jumping, he twists his body, feet sliding and hand grabbing the person's wrist, he stands behind the offender with their wrist pressed rather tightly against their back. The dull ocean wave-like sounds die down, he can hear shouts:

"What are you doing!?"

"Stop!"

His heart is still hammering but he slowly backs off, the person, the boy with the shaved sides rubs at his shoulder, a frown (bordering on a pout) in place, "I-I'm sorry." he backs down a little more, "I don't like being touched."

The boy is still frowning but he eventually lightens up, "Hey, no problem man."

An awkward silence fills the air between the two males, Zuko realizes the other isn't going to break it, "So uh, did you NEED something-or?"

"WAS going to ask if you needed help with the zipper thing on your suit-thingy but well, that happened."

"Oh."

"Zuzu!" Zuko flinches at the name, it brings up a swell of nausea, "Stop flirting and hurry, I'd rather not spend another second here than I have to!"

Teeth clenching, he bypasses the preteen and disappears into the vault while zipping up his suit-he already has the lower half of his armor, all he needs is his upper half. Moving towards the shelves lined with various armor sizes, he can hear a louder pair of footsteps following him, he glances over his shoulder in time to see that boy gawking at all the armor pieces lined up-he doesn't have time for whatever it is the kid wants and continues. He gathers the pieces he needs and moves to a nearby bench. It's as he's putting on the chest piece that the boy speaks up.

"So, I noticed you didn't have a name. What's that like?"

Ridiculously enough, JET is the first thing that comes to mind, "Uh-living?"

He straps on a bracer when the boy speaks again, "Name's Sokka by the way, the girl with the hair-loopies is my little sister, Katara, and the bald monk is our friend, Aang, what's yours?" he begins chuckling, "Or can I call you ZUZU?"

"Please don't." Zuko growls, he finishes strapping his bracer and begins on the other, "My NAME is Zuko."

"Cool." Sokka hums conversationally, "Hey, I heard this armor was pretty tough and that suit thing you wear underneath is woven with metal-like fabrics, is that true?"

"I wouldn't know." grouses Zuko, he's clicking his shoulder pads in place, "I don't make them."

"Oh right." blessed silence, "Nice weather-well, unless you count the whole "town-being-overrun" thing that's going on-,"

"What do you want?" Zuko snaps, an elbow pad clenched in hand.

"Right, right." Sokka holds his hands up, "Well the armor, do you think I can wear it too?"

"I highly doubt that." Zuko turns his back on the other, "The armor is specially made for those who've been trained to move in them."

"That sucks."

"Keeps CIVILIANS from scavenging them from dead Sentries."

"Still."

Finished, he sweeps past Sokka and makes for the main area where he spots the Caliber waiting with a helmet in hand, "About time." she snarks, "I was beginning to think I'd leave you behind."

"Just-tell me this plan of yours." Zuko hisses.

"Follow me." the group follows the girl to the wall of screens, each showing different views of the same hallway, "There's a hidden panel behind this wall," she gestures towards a nearby screen showing a metallic wall, "The panel leads to a vent system which leads underground where the bunker will be."

"Seems easy enough." the monk-child beams,

"Yes if you don't take into consideration the fact that you three came bumbling your way through, attracting the faster moving infected."

Zuko frowns, "Okay, so we just sneak past them."

"But not ALL of us are capable of stealth." the Caliber stares the three kids down before turning her attention to the screens, "Not to mention, the panel, when being opened, is pretty loud itself so we've got one chance at this before the infected rush us. Thankfully most of the infected are lumbering around the far end of the hall," she shows the video feed from the beginning of the hall where just a few wander, "You're going to need to use your SHIFTER abilities and create an inferno that blocks them from getting to us while I open the panel."

The ex-Sentry feels his heart drop, "I-don't know HOW to use my SHIFTER abilities."

"Consider this a crash-course." the Caliber grins madly before sobering up, "Once I get the panel open we'll have to hurry inside where you'll have to weld the panel shut-,"

"Then we're home free~!" Sokka grins.

"No." the Caliber deadpans, "Then we have to get a sizeable distance from the panel as I'm sure it will be crushed underneath tons of cement and concrete."

"Why?" the blue-eyed girl asks,

"I've placed numerous explosives throughout the building," she holds up a device that looks somewhat like a TV remote, "Once I press the detonation button, this whole building will come crashing down."

"But, what about the bunker below?" the monk blinks, "Won't it be crushed under all that weight?"

"No," the Caliber growls, "The bunker is safe; it's surrounded by solid earth."

"All right." Zuko sighs, "Let's get this over with."

The room shuts down, one by one, each electronic fades until all that is left is an eternal dark, with baited breaths they listen to the clinking and clattering of the rattling shutters-the noise usually a dim sound now rivals a battleground-he would be lying if he were to say he was not afraid as he scarcely opened the door, listening to it "swoosh" open. Peering down the hall, he spies the infected lounging absently at the far end as they'd been earlier, scanning the opposite end, he steps out, gesturing for the others. Through his peripherals, he can see the four figures slip out of the room, he thinks he sees a flash of red fabric; however, he brushes it off and fixates on his task, his heart is thrumming and his breathing is becoming labored, palms facing the fumbling ghouls, he tries to pick up on the elusive fluttering within his chest-when he does, he feels a zealous amount of heat course through his veins, the air before him shimmers and swelters, he's ready. Exhaling a steady breath-he's shocked when smoke emerges from his mouth, swirling in front of his eyes in search of escape from the confines of the helmet.

_**SCREE-EECH!** _

Glancing over his shoulder, he beholds the ex-Caliber opening the panel although something seems amiss, deviating from the issue, his heart jumps when he meets the hollow eyes of a ghoul. It bumbles and fumbles, struggles to its feet, body moving awkwardly loose, head lolling back as it bends its spine and lets out an obnoxious pealing shriek, the shriek a battle cry and call, more of the monstrosities peek out from around the corner. A tumultuous chorus of yips, howls, and yowls reverberate from the metal halls; in the near distance more squeals can be heard. Zuko's heart drops as the first, with all its gangly limbs, runs at him, followed by the rest-he takes a step back.

"Keep them busy, Zuko!" he hears the Caliber shout.

Cringing at the frenzied nightmares, he forces the friction through his palms-a torrent of flame spews forth, its strong, warm, powerful, he hears the wails of those on fire accompanied by terrified squawks. Propelling a burst of energy, the fire burns brighter, he backtracks, never once letting the fire weaken.

He shouts over the rush of the fire and the howls, "What's wrong!?"

"It's stuck!" Katara answers, she gasps, "Look out!"

Already having seen it, he drops the wall of fire a moment; the ghoul flings itself at him, arms outstretched-he secures a tight hold on its wrist and slams it to the ground, lifting his leg, he drives his metal-plated heel into its socket. Executing the threat, he shoots a ball to the ground before the horde; it erupts in a blast of fire. The surprised shrieks almost drown out the ex-Caliber's screams:

"We're going to have to slip through! Monk-you go first!" howls ignite to their right, "Then the girl, and then the boy!" bellows sound from the left, "Now!" a cold shade of blue lights up the opposite halls, startled squeals are heard-a warm hand grabs his forearm, "Your turn. Hurry."

Acquiescing, Zuko sends a final wave of fire down the main hall and slips through the crevice, he can't see what happens but he can FEEL the air shift and crackle, the entire area outside the panel detonates into a blinding electric light. The female Sentry slides through, using a metal pipe she breaks the supports, they snap shut, breaking the small pole in half-a blue fire ignites from her index and middle finger, she begins to weld the panel shut.

"Do-you don't think they can open the panel even if we DON'T weld it shut?" the monk asks timidly, "Do you?"

"They haven't been able to open anything thus far," the Caliber states, "But one can never be too careful." she pulls the detonation remote from her satchel, pressing a button; she sets it near the panel, the thing lights up red, "Now we've got to get as far away from here as possible."

**X**

One was truly the loneliest number, meandering from room to room, hall to hall; he had noticed that everyone had SOMEONE while he himself was a soul without its destined mate. Ambling down an empty hall, the lights start to flicker seconds before the entire world itself seems to shake with a force that nearly sends him stumbling-the bulbs continue their needless on and off, he can hear panicked screams and shouts of surprise that only quiet when the lights start up again. Staring hard at the metal ceiling, expecting it to cave, he begins to hear tinny whispers of the other survivors-this mollifies him a fraction, but he strays near the metal walls, all senses on high alert. Rounding a corner, his ears pick up on something above him; it begins to moving down the hall, suspicious, he follows it, sincerely wishing he had a weapon on him. It leads him to a dead end where he can see a large, square vent; he takes a step back and hides around the corner where he watches the grate safely.

Fingers, feminine in nature, slip through the grates and hold on, the metal surrounding the vent begins to light up red-someone is breaking in, curious, he rests against the wall and waits to see who the culprit is. When the torch dies, he watches the person pull it into the ducts only for a pair of legs to take its place, the person ends up falling out-it's some boy with a different shade of browned skin:

"Sokka!" a voice whispers from the vents-ah, so there's more, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," SOKKA answers, "I just-," he stops midsentence when he sees Jet, "Uh-hi?"

"Hey." Jet smirks, he uncrosses his arms and draws near, he's peering up into the darkness but can't make out HOW many is up there, "What're you doing?"

"We're uh-I-it's not what it looks like!" Sokka babbles, "We have Sentries with us! They led us here!"

Jet feels his heart perk up, ""Sentries"?"

"Yeah-?"

"What are you doing!?" a wondrous and familiar voice hisses from the dark, a helmeted head follows the outburst, "Jet?" the head disappears before dropping down, landing gracefully, they stand to their full height and pull the helmet off; beautiful raven-silken hair falls in glittering yellow orbs.

"Well hello there~it sure has been a while."

"Not long enough." Zuko deadpans, he tosses the helmet to Jet, "Just help us."

A minute later after the entire group is safe and out of the vent system, the female Sentry welds the metal back in place, she finishes off the last bit and is placed back down on the floor:

"Right," Jet snorts, "That's not suspicious at ALL."

"I'm sorry," the female Sentry sneers, her eyes are cold, "But who ARE you exactly?"

"Jet." he notes the way her brow twitches, "And you?"

"You don't need to know."

The eighteen year old narrows his eyes until the girl with ocean-eyes shoves a red cloth at Zuko, "That reminds me! You forgot this!"

"Oh," the Sentry collects it from her hold, "Thank you."

"You're welcome~."

"Enough small talk." the snappish Sentry frowns, "Zuko, we need to start planning our escape."

"And we want to help~!" the monk pipes up, "As "thanks" for helping us~!"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Escape!?" snaps Jet, "You JUST got here and now you're going to leave!?"

"I can't stay here," Zuko starts, "The Bureau think I'm dead and-,"

"He's done treasonous things." his female counterparts adds, "Now take us to your room, Mai will meet us there."

"Who the hell is Mai!?"

"Jet." Zuko hisses, Jet sighs but gestures for the group to follow-it's quiet, "Did uh-Smellerbee and Longshot-your friends, did they make it?"

The sun-kissed teenager can't help but smile, "Yeah, they made it; I was just taking a walk." he opens a metal door, "Well, here we are."

"Jet?" Smellerbee starts, eyes on the group, "What's going on?"

"Ah, nothing." Jet waves her off, he closes the door but it stops, sighing again, he opens the door, the stale girl from earlier enters, "Zuko just made a few new friends, that's all." he shuts the door harder than necessary, "Is this everyone?"

The female Sentry answers, "Yes."

"All right, good, so now that everyone is here-mind telling ME what the fuck is going on?"


	6. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't particularly like this chapter, but I don't exactly have the time I would like to fix it. I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Forge**

**Lies**

Perhaps it should have been too much to hope for their plans of escape to remain a secret, especially in a place filled with "hounds" that were trained to sniff out any and all sources of skullduggery. Both he and Longshot were standing in front of one another at the bottom of the shaft with the others off to the side, both pairs of eyes cast upward when a girlish scream perforated their ears and drew them from their thoughts. Navigating their positions, both teenage boys were able to catch Katara with little injury to any of them, although, Jet realized something was off-they set her on her feet.

Jet is the first to ask, "Where's Zuko?"

"I-he's still up there!" she breathes, swiping at the loose strands of hair, "They-some men surrounded us!"

_**BAM!** _

The metal surrounding them reverberated and shook, whatever was taking place up there, it wasn't good-arcing his back from the wall he'd been thrown against, nails scrabbling at the dented metal chest-plate as he tries desperately to gather oxygen in his wedged lungs. Squinting, a large, blurry figure moves towards him, he shuts his eyes in pain. The air becomes electric, someone is going to die. Telltale clicks echo eerily throughout the area. Wheezing an unnatural sounding breath, he propels himself out of the way seconds before the wall he'd been slumped against is peppered with bullet holes. Staggering to a halt near the opened panel, Zuko wrangles for some semblance of consciousness-he's going to pass out any second-the group of armed Sentries and Units point their weapons at him. Drawing his eyes shut, he falls over the panel edge.

"Is that gunfire!?" Sokka about screeches, hands covering his ears.

After the question is thrown out there, Jet, who'd been pacing restlessly, stops when he sees Zuko of all people falling, and fast, a hand grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him out of the way-angling his body, the ex-Sentry lands heavily upon the metal floor, a pained, raspy gasp leaves his mouth while doubling over. A hand grasping in vain at the dent in his armor.

"Zuko!" Jet calls out,

Zuko holds a flaming palm up, "Go!"

Everyone turns tail and runs, Zuko managing to avoid the spray of bullets showering the floor.

During their run from the area, Jet can't help but concentrate on the blood-chilling rasps coming from Zuko, enough so that even he was beginning to feel that he was the one who was gasping like a dying man.

"Okay." Mai speaks up, hands in the air, "Are we going to ignore the disturbing breathing coming from Z-Event-9856? It's disgusting."

"His NAME is Zuko." Jet snarls, everyone's stopped, the earthen teenager turns to his soul mate, "But seriously, you might want to have me take a look at whatever injuries you've got."

Mai drones, "And I'm guessing you've had experience in tending to wounded Sentries."

"He's EX-Sentry."

"NEITHER of you is getting in to Zuzu's pants today." The female Sentry snorts, both teens glare at her but her attention is on the three kids forced to come along with them, "Any of you know how to tend to injuries?"

Katara raises her hand slowly, "Uh-I've had SOME experience with-,"

"Perfect." The Caliber cuts her off, "Tend to him. We'll spend the night here."

"I-we've got to keep moving." Zuko rasps irritably, he tries to push past Jet, "They could find us at any moment!"

"If you continue yelling like that, they will." Azula sighs, "Three of us will keep watch to cover for your incompetence." Zuko bears his teeth at the girl, "UNLESS you'd rather meet a pitiful death out there. Your choice-ZUZU."

"Stop CALLING me that." Zuko hisses after the flippant female, but acquiesces.

He begins undoing the clasps of the dented chest-plate, shoulder, elbow, and shin guards. Each falling with heavy thuds. He takes a greedy gulp of air, exhaling steadily, he is about to reach behind himself when a hand stops him. Glowering over his shoulder, he's greeted by Jet's "oh-so-charming" smile.

"Allow me~." Jet rumbles seductively, Zuko squints at the other but allows his hand to be swept away.

What happens next makes Zuko seriously regret his lapse in judgment-Jet slowly, TENDERLY, tugs the zipper downward, caressing the curve of his spine, sending chills running throughout his body and SHOULD NOT be making his nipples harden or cause a series of goose-bumps to run up and down his arms, warm hands slip underneath the metal-inlayed fabric and rest upon the heated skin of his hips. He feels both violated AND offended. Swinging his elbow back, he hopes to crack Jet in the nose, unfortunately for him, the other boy ducks under the hit and skitters out of his personal space.

"Ah geez, Jet." Smellerbee starts as soon as her friend's safely at her side, "I thought you were going to sex him up right there."

"Smellerbee," Jet leers, "Could it be possible that you're secretly a voyeur?"

This earns him a punch to the shoulder-Zuko on the other hand, feels vaguely uncomfortable with removing his top, with a sigh, he peels the top off. Gasps sound all around him, when he sees what they see; he can't help but feel just as surprised. On his chest is a large, ugly bruise that takes up the entire spot upon his chest, the edges are a sickening green and yellow.

"What HAPPENED?" Katara asks, short on breath.

"A Unit sent me flying in to a wall." Zuko says, eyes flicking to the dented chest piece.

"Whoa!" Sokka exclaims, holding the ruined metal piece in both hands.

Aang zips in to Zuko's personal space, wide eyes gazing in awe at the bruise, "Does it hurt?"

Zuko bites back a yelp as the kid POKES the wound with his finger; he slaps the kid's hand away, "Of COURSE it hurts."

"I'm not sure there's anything I can do," Katara murmurs, "You'll just have to let it heal on its own."

A blood-red flicker starts at the medial of the horrendous bruise; it attracts the attention of everyone, even Azula who'd been silent.

"It seems he's already healing." Azula states, "He should be fully healed tomorrow morning. We'll take shifts, Mai, the "Mute", and I will take first watch." Longshot and his friends glare at the nickname given, "Pony-tail, Jack, and Jack's other friend will take second watch. And finally, the bald kid, the girl with the braid, and Zuzu, will take the last watch."

"Who made YOU leader of this group?" Jet snarls, "None of us even KNOW you!"

"And what do YOU think we should do, Jack?" Azula sneers, "Vote?"

"It doesn't MATTER whose leader," Mai sighs, "We've got a plan and we should stick to it. You guys can fight in the morning."

**X**

Silver beams of moonlight bounce and radiate off the metal walls-Jet stared at the far end of the metal passage where they will be exiting through the metal grate, returning his gaze to a topless Zuko, he trains his eyes upon the red glow. The bruise-as nasty as it had been-is receding back to a fair tone. Sinking within a more comfortable position, Jet lets his head lull-seconds before his lids shut, something catches his eye-forcing himself awake, the eighteen year old pushes himself to the balls of his feet, he hovers before Zuko's tense, snoozing form. There's a distinct pattern beginning to show itself each minute the bruise fades, squinting, he realizes that it isn't some pattern-but a name. _"Jet McAllister"._ Feeling his heart soar and breath catch, he falls on his rear-aware of eyes on him, he looks up, meeting the eyes of Smellerbee. He smiles a smile that is unlike him, soft and VULNERABLE. Her eyes flit to Zuko's sleeping form then meets his gaze once more. When she turns away, Jet gazes tenderly at his soul mate.

Zuko West is TRULY his soul mate.

Waking with a sigh and stiff muscles, Zuko twists onto his side-across from him, he can make out Aang's silhouette. The child monk appears to be jotting something down on a small notepad, an object the ex-Sentry never knew he had. The boy's eyes flick up, locking on his bare chest in a manner that makes the older boy feel as if he should put his top back on. Aang apparently realizes that he's awake and beams in such joy; Zuko wonders how the boy could be so happy when sitting in a vent-pushing himself to sit upright, he peers down at his chest to gauge the damage. His world stops. Scrawled across his chest in a mismatch of strikes and twists is an unfamiliar sight-a name, THE name of a soul mate.

"Jet wanted to let you sleep a little longer," Aang murmurs, his voice-even though quiet-captures the attention of Katara, "You're really lucky, finding your soul mate in such a mess."

Winded and numb, Zuko surrenders to the dark of his mind, he stares at nothing while his nails scrape and break skin, he shouldn't HAVE a soul mate-all his years as a child, he's waited, waited for the inking to stain his skin, when it never happened, he'd given up, he moved PAST it. But running the pads of his fingers across the name dredges up old, forgotten memories. He has, had, HAS a soul mate. Irises flashing bright gold, his eyes flit to the metal helmet lying innocently by his booted feet, the Bureau has lied to him-about what?

_EVERYTHING._

When he reaches for his helmet, he feels something scrape underneath his skin uncomfortably. Pressing a finger to the oddity, he feels a small lump, grabbing the knife he had in his boot; he pierces the skin-Aang making a startled noise-digging two fingers into the cut, he rummages until he grabs the object. Pulling it from his flesh, he studies it eye-level. It's a ruined chip. Snarling, he snatches the metal-clad helm, he stands, eyes trained upon the sleeping form of Azula-chucking the helmet, it lands a successful hit-the ex-Caliber's nose. Aang begins flitting around Zuko, stressing about something or other, but his attention is on the girl as she startles, spluttering in an uncharacteristic way, waking everyone. Her eyes are wild, raging when they meet his. He holds the chip up for the female to see.

"What is this!?"

Her eyes flit from the chip to the cut on his chest, she regains her cool, "It's a chip." she sneers.

"I KNOW that." Zuko shouts, tossing the thing to the ground, "I want to know what it's FOR!"

"It's a cosmetic chip. It removes any unsightly-," her eyes flit to Jet momentarily, "-blemishes the host may have. But if it makes you feel any BETTER, you never wanted HIS name in the first place."

Embers flicker from his clenched fists-if that's true, then why is he so angry, he looks to Jet, of all people, and sees the walls he's put up-his attention snaps back to her, she could be lying. _"Azula always lies."._

He growls, "I want my memories back!"

"All right, BROTHER." she jeers, "There is a building in the south that holds the key to your buried memories." Zuko shrugs on his top and zips it up, "BUT," he pauses, "There is also a building in the north that holds the cure to this disease that ravages the world and everyone who lives upon it." she smirks, "You can only go after ONE."

"That's a dick move!" Smellerbee shouts, "Why does he have to chose ONE!?"

"Because we can't have it all." Azula smiles cruelly, not sparing the girl a glance, "So what will it be, Zuzu? Yourself? Or the WORLD?"

He doesn't need a second to think, "Show me where this CURE is."

Azula's smile widens, Jet scowls, "You're passing up the chance to get your memories back!?"

Zuko holds eye contact with his SISTER, "My duty is to the citizens."

Jet storms into Zuko's personal space, "YOU'RE. NOT. A. SENTRY. ANYMORE!"

Zuko snaps his glare to Jet, "I know that, but it's still a part of me."

"And what about this?" Jet growls, tapping Zuko's chest with the back of his hand, "THIS is a part of you too."

"I know, but as of now it's part of a past forgotten." standing 4 inches from Jet, he can see the second's worth hurt in the older teen's eyes-it DOES something undecipherable to him, "What matters now is this cure."

Jet narrows his eyes, "Deny it all you want, it's real. But you're WRONG if you think I'm going to let you, or this, go."

"We're going too!" Sokka pipes, "It's not like we can knock on the door and hope the Bureau takes us back."


End file.
